Her Head
by Masking What Remains
Summary: Sayori wakes up after Monika resets the game. Rated T for descriptions from Sayori's POV at the end of Act 1. TW for depression and suicide.


The sun shone through Sayori's bedroom windows on yet another day. It shone in the coral-haired girl's face, gently waking her up. She yawned, and slowly sat up, rubbing her blue eyes and adjusting to the sight of her room. Everything looked the same as it always did, from the bed covers to the stuffed toys. And yet, it felt like a completely different world.

Sayori knew something was different. For one thing, she could see things clearly instead of a mess of colors. She could hear birds chirping outside her room, and was now aware of the sun in her face, and that it woke her up. She looked around her room.

It was the same as before. The bed was in its normal place, tucked in the corner right next to the wardrobe. In front of it were her stuffed toys, and her bookshelf was near them at the foot of her bed. The walls and floor and ceiling looked the same as always, and everything looked normal. So why did it feel like something had changed? That something was different?

She got out of bed and carefully walked over to her desk. Her eyes scanned the notebooks and papers on them until they fell on one particular piece of paper on top of her notebooks. As Sayori picked it up, she read the writing on it, which surprised her in two ways.

One, it was her handwriting. Two, it was a note, reminding her of a club meeting today. It was signed "-Club President Sayori."

She squinted at the paper, as if doing so would magically change the writing on the paper that she wanted to doubt was hers. After all, wasn't she the _vice_ -president of the club? What happened to Monika?

All of a sudden, it hit her. Or rather, she realized what it was. Silly Sayori, nothing flew at her, she told herself.

Now that she thought about it, the last time she woke up, she remembered feeling nothing but hopeless and empty. She remembered feeling miserable, like no one would miss her because she wasn't worth anything in anyone's lives. She remembered feeling _broken_ , like nothing and no one could fix her.

Suddenly, she recalled standing on a chair, a circle of rope held in her hands. She recalled placing that circle around her neck, and tightening it. In her mind, she saw her hands move up to make sure the rope was securely tied to the ceiling. The dim, yet clear memory played out in her head, slowly as if it wanted to engrave itself into her mind so deep that she would forever see it, and suddenly, she heard her own voice. The Sayori with the necklace of rope around her neck's mouth moved in time with the words, and they sent a chill through her body:

" _ **This is what's best for everyone.**_ "

With that, she kicked the chair away, and the other Sayori fell, but was suddenly caught by the noose. She could see herself running out of air, her hands clawing at the rope, but to no avail as she saw herself slowly but surely stop struggling, until she saw herself go completely limp, her blood-covered hands falling to her sides. In her mind, seeing herself this way brought one word to mind. She knew what she was, yet she couldn't bring herself to outright say it. What was in reality only a few minutes of her now sitting on the floor as her last memory played out in her head felt like an eternity.

Her vision finally faded back to the note she had written herself about the club meeting. Suddenly, everything made sense. It made sense what felt different. How else could she explain why she essentially watched herself die just now, and why she was suddenly club president?

She blinked once. Then twice. She decided to do one last thing in order to confirm her suspicions. She grabbed her phone and as fast as she could, went to the "M" section of her contacts list.

No Monika.

Then that was it, then. She knew she was right. She was in control now. For the first time, in her entire existence- not the life she had been programmed with, her _real_ existence- she felt much happier. She may not have actually had a childhood friend, but between the two of them, only she was aware of the truth. _He_ was programmed to consider her his childhood friend.

But not the other person. The one controlling her "childhood friend", the world's "protagonist." _They_ knew the truth. Her and the player.

Her senses tingled as she felt something happen. Her instincts led to the window, and there he was. No doubt he was on his way to school.

She quickly prepared herself, put her game face- ehehe, _game_ face- on, then went out the door, ready to start the game again.

* * *

Hi there, and thanks for reading this story! This is easily one of the most graphic stories I've posted, and I'm surprised that I got the nerve to publish it. I never even meant for it to get this dark, it just happened as I wrote. Whether you liked it, or didn't, a review would be appreciated! If you didn't, I'd like to hear how I can improve.

If you are suffering from depression, or suicidal thoughts, or even just feeling down, **you are not alone**. I can't stress this enough. While writing this, I ended up writing from how I felt through my own experiences with depression, and I want you to know that I am here for you, regardless of whether we know each other or not. You have someone on your side.

Once again, thank you for reading!


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